


Hurt like Me

by ObsessedChick



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angry Sex, Blow Jobs, Dacryphilia, M/M, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:41:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23729200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ObsessedChick/pseuds/ObsessedChick
Summary: Dean goes to visit his brother, while he's there he sees the love of his life fucking someone else. After he flees, he is met with a drunk Sam in his motel hours later.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester
Comments: 4
Kudos: 29





	Hurt like Me

"I'm sorry, Dean." He sobs now, begging, "talk to me, please." 

"Just go home." Dean slurred, alcohol on his breath.

"Just listen--"

"Boyfriends waiting for you," Dean laughed, humorlessly. 

"He's not," Sam tried, breaths coming in uneven gasps, "we're not together."

Dean laughed harshly again. The cold night air feels almost suffocating. 'Isn't California supposed to be warm,' he wondered then giggled to himself again. Sam was sobbing against him, pushing him against the Impala and soaking his shirt with tears.

"I promise, Dean. Only you."

"Then why was your cock in his ass?" Dean chuckles, his own tears flooding his eyes. "Looked like your little boy toy was pretty into being yours."

Sam winced, grabbing onto Dean's jacket and pulling him close. Dean still laughed. Two hours ago he pulled up to the apartment building, knowing the address from the packages Sam sent him, anticipating spending the night with his brother. What he found was Sam, drunk, fucking his roommate in the stairwell. He barely caught Sam's eye before he was bolting out the door again. Dean went back to his motel, determined on finishing off John's liquor stash in the trunk. It took longer than he expected for Sam to knock at the door.

"Must've had to finish up," He said out loud and giggled, finding himself cruelly smiling. 

"Don't do this, Dean," Sam whispered against his ear, "I love you."

"Go home, Sammy." He grunted, allowing the giggles to finally fade. Anger already starting to get the better of him. 

"No, Dean, I need you. Haven't seen you in months." 

"You dont fucking need me."

Sam wasn't expecting the way Dean pushed against him, shoving him aside as he straightened up. The gravel from the road caused him to slip. Nothing stopping his fall against the asphalt. Pain shot up both knees as the fabric tore, blood and dirt scraping both knees. 

"Dean," he whispered, not getting up, "Dean, I'm sorry."

Dean laughed bitterly again, "You didn't look sorry, you looked so fucking happy, Sammy."

Sam said nothing, only wrapped his arms around Dean's midsection and allowed himself to cry, tears soaked the bottom of the flannel shirt. He sobbed hard, holding onto Dean tightly. Dean was his, his brother, the love of his life since he was fully able to understand what that meant. He needed Dean more than he needed the oxygen in his lungs. 

"Fuck you, Sam." He heard Dean mumble. 

Kisses were pressed against any part he could find, stomach, hips, thighs, as Sam sobbed uncontrollably. Dean felt himself grow hard, body reacting naturally to Sam in such a position. He knew Sam felt his hardening cock against his throat, because he paused, slowing his kisses. 

"I need you," he felt Sam mumble, pushing his shirt up. "Don't leave me, Dean."

'Isn't he the one who left,' the older man chuckled into the empty air. Memories of the way he left John and Dean played like a fucked up family video in his head. Cruel voices taunted him, 'He left you.'

"Get off. Go home, Sam." 

"Dean," he hiccuped, "I can't. I'm sorry."

Dean leaned back against the impala, dew from the night dampening his shirt. Sam stayed where he was, on his knees in front of him. Once upon a time they would have been fucking already.

"A year and a half," he whispered, looking up at the sky as Sam slowly pulled his zipper down, "I waited for a year and a half. And here you are, with a live in fucktoy." 

Sam was still sobbing, still putting small apologetic kisses on Dean's, now naked, hips. Dean could feel every tear, every shaky breath Sam let out. Satisfaction burst from within his core when he looked down and finally seen Sam. His cock, standing hard against Sam's cheek, left trails of precum against the man's reddened cheeks when he thrust forward. 

"You don't look sorry, Sammy." Dean lied, allowing his anger to give way to lust. "You look like a mess, but you don't look sorry."

"Dean, please," he begged, looking up at him, "I love you, only you, please." 

Dean chuckled darkly, the loud voices in his head taunting him. He pushed his hard cock against Sam's lips, "Show me how sorry you are."

Sam didn't break eye contact when he opened his mouth. Quivering breaths blowing hotly against Dean's skin. Sam was shaking, tears falling out of his eyes as he shyly took his brothers cock inside. 

"You're so good, Samny." He mumbled, echoing the words they said to each other the night he found his brother in his bed. Only now they hurt, his heart was in a vice. For both of them it felt like a nail was driven into their shaking hearts. This didnt feel like that, it felt ruined, tainted by everything that happened.

"Sammy, do it." He barked, his voice turning cold. Anger seeped through his being as he stared down at Sam. He hurt and Sam didn't hurt. He was on his knees like always, expecting to suck him off and be forgiven. 

Sam wouldn't hurt him. Sam promised never to, he said he'd rather die than hurt Dean. But he left and now, even after he promised his heart, soul and body, he left him in the dust and moved on. This wasn't his Sammy, he knew that now. He wondered if his brother always used him like this, made use of his desperate need for love while he was with him then tossed him aside. The minute he could flee, he did and the anger Dean pushed down for so long was bubbling over. 

"Get to it," he demanded, threading his fingers through his hair and pulling him to his cock. 

Sam barely had a moment to open his mouth before Dean was thrusting, for a second he wondered if it was too far when he felt Sam gag but as he pulled away Sam followed, chasing after the delicious torture. Dean could barely contain a dark chuckle as he began to really push his cock forward. 

"Fuck you," he grunted. 

Sam looked up, tears in his eyes, nose leaking from his sobbing. Dean could tell he struggled to breathe around his cock, he sobbed and gasped when he could. Dean wondered if he was growing light headed, if he would let him use him until he passed out. 

He leaned his head back, taking heavy breaths. The pressure on his dick and the vice around his heart were too much. He hated Sam right now. Rage was felt through every part of his being, and he used that every time Sam tried to pull away. His hands were sore from how hard he held onto Sam's head, his knuckles were white from the way he was using his brother's mouth. 

"I fucking hate you," he moaned, feeling Sam choke on sobs. 

"I fucking hate this." He pushed in, surpassing the already weakened gag reflex and holding there. 

Thrills of adrenaline shot up his spine as Sam fought to push him away. At least that was how it felt, he felt a hand beat against his hip, as the other stayed wrapped around his thighs, anchoring his brother in his throat. Pulling him in as much as he can go.

"You're such a fucking asshole."

He held on, feeling Sam desperately trying to get away, to move from his spot. But he wouldn't let up. Inside, arousal seared through him like a branding iron. He's waited so long for this, to have his Sammy in his arms but all he has now is a dirty bitch on his knees. He doesn't know how Sam breaks free, only stares down as Sam pulls away, gasping as he ignores the amount of drool and tears that soak his shirt. For a second he anticipates a punch, a kick, something but when Sam surges forward again, hands wrapping around his cock he just about loses the ability to think.

He doesn't think anymore. Just allows Sam to touch him, the feeling of hurting him back. He wants to hurt him, he wants to wipe that dazed, almost content look off his face. He said nothing, only grabbed Sam's hair in a vice, holding it inches away from his cock as he came, wetting his face, hair and stupid college sweater. 

He was still sobbing, only now he was begging too, telling Dean to stay and that he missed him and he needs him. Dean can't hardly catch his breath, watching Sam sob pathetically at his feet. Sam looked utterly ruined, absolutely destroyed in more ways than one.

"'sko to bed," Dean mumbled, turning away and walking into the motel room.

He waited a few seconds and then he heard the clumsy pattering of his drunken lover. He watched Sam take off his shirt, wipe the remains of Dean off his face then lay back and slowly give way to unconsciousness. Dean stared down at him for too long, the sun had risen and he had left his buzz alone, when he decided on his next action. Being with Sam would only get harder. He wouldn't be able to say goodbye again. He wouldn't be able to leave and know Sam was fucking some blonde frat boy and still being in love with him. None of that would be possible anymore. 

Red hot rage was his motivator to kiss Sam, hoping he'd wake up and stop him, but his brother remained limp and asleep. He wanted to be stopped, watched once again to be held and told he was loved but that was the past now. With one last, longing, look, he grabbed his keys, still a little buzzed and way too exhausted, he left. Part of him hoping that would be enough to end his pain.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry, if theres any mistakes, any constructive criticism is appreciated!
> 
> Thank you and kudos or comments if you wish, and thanks for reading my fic anyway!


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